


Lion Baiting

by sake_neko



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sake_neko/pseuds/sake_neko
Summary: Milo is bothered.
Relationships: Leo Aiolia/Scorpio Milo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Lion Baiting

_Rustle, rustle._

“There you are!”  
“Ah…!”

_Rustle, rustle._

“Why are you crying?”

_Sniffle, sniffle._

“Brother said that he’ll be gone for a few days.”  
“Oh...”  
“I miss Brother...”

_Pat, pat, pat._

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back real soon. Your brother’s strong.“  
“But what if he’s not?”

_Rustle, rustle._

“Then I’ll be the one who protects you.”  
“Really?”  
“We’re friends, and I like you a lot. I don’t want to see you hurt, so I’ll fight!”  
“Nuh-uh, I’ll fight too! I like you a lot and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll protect you too!”  
“Heh, then we’ll be together forever. Nobody can stop us!”

_Clap-clap._

“Promise?”  
“Promise! So, don’t cry anymore. Okay?”  
“Mmm!”

* * * * *

It was a moonless night in Sanctuary. Standing by the cliffside near his temple, his head arched to the sky, Scorpio embraced the chill of spring. Home again, the sharp air would say with a fond welcome. Ever since becoming a Gold Saint, this view was his private reward. 

Particularly in spring. His bones ached if a mission took him away from these stars. He was fortunate this year.

Every year, the same question floated in his mind.

Is the other Leo faring well?

He was lacking in company. Camus was training his disciples in Siberia. Shaka was undergoing preparations for his annual pilgrimage. Who knew about his seniors.

Aldebaran and Aiolia were away on a mission. 

Milo kicked himself over the last name. If he stayed in Sanctuary a few more days, he could have accompanied the lion. No ill will toward Aldebaran. Yet it was only on missions that the duo seemed attuned to one another, their wills unified. Resounding cosmo against the evils of the world.

Now they were distant.

When was the last time he had talked with Aiolia in private? They had remained stationed in Sanctuary the longest, and it was a mixed comfort. Years of conversations about current affairs and mission reports. Blind allegiance to the Pope from Leo, Scorpio’s unease rendered pointless to share in seconds. And the reaction Aiolia had whenever he overheard anyone doubting his loyalty? Milo’s attempts to calm him were nonexistent.

He was content with this arrangement at first. At first...

Now it was different.

Milo had a wish.

If it were possible, then—

Should he have… No, it’s too late for that now. Could it be that he… No, that’s not what he thought at all. Would he... if Aiolia knew, would he—?

“Good evening, Scorpio Milo.”

Scorpio looked over his shoulder to the speaker. The man in the rose-colored Cloth bowed to his blond haired superior. Milo straightened his back.

“Greetings to you, Silver Saint.”

“Lyra Orphée, Milord.”

The Gold Saint tilted his chin. He had heard of this Saint from Camus. For once, the living legend happened to be present when Scorpio wasn’t away on a mission. What a formidable cosmo radiating from him. It was an honor to meet someone so skilled. 

“What business would you have with me, Lyra Orphée?”

“Forgive my rudeness. I was seeking to rest in my quarters, yet I could not bring myself to leave you. It may be my imagination, but I sense distress within your heart.”

“From me?”

Jutting his chin back to the sky, Milo scowled. 

“You are mistaken. You need not tarry here. Retire for the night.”

“Perhaps it is as you say. However—”

Lyra closed his eyes.

“Your face looks like mine whenever I yearn for my love. It is a sickness that I wish for no one on this beautiful night. It is my desire to alleviate the strain.”

Scorpio exhaled. It appeared his effort to spare the Silver Saint from his personal burden was unwarranted. He could tell from the tone in his guest’s voice that further procrastination would be thwarted. Very well. Perhaps it would be an enlightening exchange.

“Your proposition?”

Orphée rested his fingers on his lyre’s golden strings.

“A song, if it would please you?”

Milo hummed. Just how did his melodies sound? Camus spoke nothing but praise for this man. Interesting. He nodded.

With a bow and a kneel, the musician began his tune.

By the first note, the Gold Saint felt his muscles loosen. Through sheer force of will, he forced his legs to remain standing. His body frozen and foreign, his mind swept from his shoulders and high into the air.

He was taken to a faraway place of myth. Green meadows, warm sunlight, fields of elegant flowers. A sweet fragrance as countless petals swirled past him. Within the whirlwind, a figure emerged in a bright ball of light.

Silhouetted and distinct. The swooshing of a mantle. Pointed face mask. Long armored legs. The light dimmed. He could see the short blond hair now, the poignant curls along his Cloth, the tanned muscled arms. Those blue eyes that softened with a smile, one that Milo deemed was impossible for him. 

Against all rational reasoning, Milo said the name on his mind the entire night. He reached out, his arms resonating to his heart’s cries. The winds swirled at his feet, the petals opened a path. When he squinted, he saw those lips moving. Two syllables. A tanned hand reaching toward his. Three steps between them. Two.

Then, all too soon, Orphée finished his tune. In a flash, the image was torn from him. Milo kept his eyes shut, clinging to the last threads of the fading dream. The echoes of the last note faded into Sanctuary’s halls.

The musician rose to his feet and bowed from the hip. In a mellow voice, he addressed his audience as his upper body went upright.

“Your assessment, Scorpio Milo?”

Feeling this world again made Milo painfully aware of the gravity chaining his feet. The weight in his chest pounded his senses back to life. Leo twinkled in his eyes once more, light years away. He took in a deep breath, the night air biting the back of his throat.

“A fabrication.”

They shared tense stares. Accustomed to the fickleness of audience participation, Lyra waited for the harmony that inevitably followed. He was rewarded.

“Fabrication it may be, your graceful music has succeeded in its task. You have my thanks. May you rest well, Orphée.”

The steady gait of clanking boots was Milo’s final farewell. Watching Scorpio head to his temple, Orphée sighed.

“May you rest well, Milord.”

They knew in their hearts that beauty alone would not be enough to grant peace to the Gold Saint. The stars and music can only do so much. Yet the musician played for the wish that burned in Scorpio’s heart.

Milo found solace in that thought alone, the balm that would permit him sleep.

* * * * *

_Kaboom!_

“Ahh!”  
“Hah, are you okay!?”  
“Ow...”  
“What is it? Let me see!”

_Shuffle, shuffle._

“Aww, your knuckles are so bloody...”  
“I’m—I’m okay! I can keep going.”  
“You dummy! You’ll get hurt if you keep going! Wait, I’ll be back.”

_Putt, putt, putt. Shh, shh._

“Here, let me wrap them.”  
“Okay...”

_Fwip, fwip, fwip. Ha-hah._

“Brother does this better than you.”  
“Of course he does. But he’s not here.”  
“Mmm...”

_Pat, pat, pat._

“There, all done.”

_Ha-ha!_

“Thank you!”  
“...You’re welcome.”

_Huff._

“...I won’t forget our promise...”  
“Huh?”

_Heh-heh!_

“Ready to get back to it?”  
“Wait, you’ve got a cut on your hand.”

_Fwip, fwip, fwip._

“Sorry if it falls apart later. Brother taught me how to do it, but I’m not as good as him yet.”  
“...Aiolia.”

_Pat, pat, pat._

“All better! Let’s go, Milo!”  
“...Yeah!”

* * * * *

Milo squinted as the streetlight flickered. It had been awhile since he ventured outside Sanctuary in civilian clothing. Cars honking, street lights switching, people shuffling past in modern footwear. Foreign foods, gasoline, and concrete invaded his senses. So much to see and do, it was exhausting. 

In the name of duty, he assured himself.

Camus had ignored the Pope’s annual summons for months, so Milo was ordered to drag the Saint back to Sanctuary himself. The Pope considered the absence far too indulgent. Aquarius was spoiling his disciples. Understandable given the remarkable talents of his star pupils but unnecessary. 

As they walked and leaped back to Greece, Aquarius kept Siberia in his sight with starry eyes. Scorpio was just glad they returned before the Pope judged his friend a deserter. He didn’t want to see Camus die a pointless death.

He didn’t want to lose another friend.

Now that he returned to his temple, Camus had to restock his living quarters since he had dismissed his attendants long ago. To the Pope, Aquarius stated he needed a watchdog to verify his full attendance and allegiance for the mandatory day. In reality, the pretense was for catching up with Milo. _Away_ from Sanctuary’s eyes. 

Milo agreed. They could drop formalities in a welcome change of scenery. Better than simmering on a certain lion as he had been for months.

When Camus finished purchasing his essentials for the night—with bonus gifts for two trainees—, the two friends strolled the streets and ran through the usuals. Technique refinements, any global updates, particular curiosities. Given an opening, Camus went on about every accomplishment and failure Hyoga and Isaak done with reverent joy. Milo listened and nodded, nodded, nodded. He’d throw in his own praise and commentary in the gaps.

Taking in his friend’s listlessness, Aquarius caught his breath. He led them toward an uncrowded public park. Only then did he dip his toe into the rippled lake behind the mask. 

“So, how does it bode with Aiolia?”

The blond’s long sigh told Camus everything he needed to know, but he soaked in the tale nevertheless.

It began from where he last heard it, with Milo resolving to make his desires for the lion a reality. For someone as conscientious as Aiolia, roundabout measures would be ineffective. Therefore, Milo helped with the lion’s private training. Casual sparring sessions boiled into hot-blooded duels. Thanks to Aiolia’s traded fists, Milo could now fire dozens of Scarlet Needles with dizzying precision.

Enjoyable takedowns. Wonderful workouts. Zilch on romance.

Milo _asked_ to join Aiolia for patrols around Sanctuary. Leo protested, insisting that the presence of two Gold Saints in the streets would unnerve the people. Scorpio bent his knee to a compromise: he would accompany in civilian clothing and would only help if needed. Leo never did need help; even if Milo moved to assist, Aiolia would shake his head. Many mornings were spent smiling by Leo’s side as he scolded a pair of sleeping guards, helped an old woman carry barrels to her home, and saved a maid from an accidental fall from the temple steps. 

Glorious heroics. Heartwarming exchanges. Zero romance.

Aquarius tilted his pointed chin toward the blond.

“You’re _stalling._ ”

Milo darted his friend a look that dared him to continue. Camus did.

“I think you should be more honest.”

Scorpio cocked an eyebrow. Aquarius was the last person on Earth he wanted to hear that from. They both knew it too. Milo crossed his arms over his chest.

“I _am_ honest.”

The redhead smirked, his red eyes gleaming with mirth in the city lights.

“Then go to him this instant and tell him how you feel.”

Challenged. Bold and upfront. Milo grimaced.

“Were it that simple...”

Three months ago, Scorpio caught Leo by the wrist before patrol. Milo dragged them out of sight of attendants and guards, pinning Aiolia’s back against a wall. He told his friend outright about how he was losing sleep over him, how he couldn’t concentrate as well anymore, how his heart pounded when he was beside him. He leaned close enough to Aiolia to smell his breath, closer than he ever dared before.

Aiolia twisted his wrist out of Milo’s grasp. He latched his hand onto his friend’s and charged relentlessly toward the civilian sectors. If Milo was having health problems, he should consult a doctor. He knew someone near Sanctuary who could help.

One of them rejoiced at the clean bill of health.

A week after that, Scorpio was stargazing with Leo and naming constellations in the summer sky. Milo pointed to his own guardian stars and told him about two stars along its curved tail end. Cat Eyes, they’re sometimes known in the West. He heard how they were also known as brother stars in the East. Guardians that would be watching over him, always protecting him. His hand was inching closer to Aiolia’s.

Aiolia darkened at the mention of brother, remarking that those same stars bordered along Sagittarius. The thought of his older brother’s constellation being in the sky during his birth month unnerved him. His brother had done the unforgivable. _He_ was no traitor.

Milo gladly spoke his faith in Aiolia’s character. Leo still stormed away in anger.

Camus adjusted the bags in his right hand, the shuffling of cloth, paper, and plastic peppering the air. His charcoal trench coat fluttered in the breeze, swatting Milo’s legs.

“Have you attempted again?”

“You think those were the only times? Aiolia is—”

“—Direct. Stubborn. Proud. _Almost_ like you.”

“How can I get across to him?”

“Now where would the learning be if I were to spell everything out for you?”

Ah, the mentor switch. Aquarius did love twisting his words into some kind of test. What a cheap escape. Milo humphed, a smirk on his lips. 

“I’m _not_ your student, Camus. Is my performance to be graded?”

His friend humphed. The rigid shoulders, firm lips, and knit eyebrows suited the mentor. Milo imagined his disciples saw that posture every day for three whole years.

“You’re not my student, but will you accept a hint?”

“What wisdom do you have to impart, O Great Master?”

“Try the opposite of what you’ve been doing.”

Camus placed his left hand on Milo’s shoulder, scarlet manicured nails curling into the leather jacket. Blue eyes met with red ones. Distinct sobriety gave way to cool consolation. 

“There will be a watershed moment for you both soon. If everything goes as I predict.”

His chin across his shoulder, Milo lowered his voice.

“Camus, do you know something I don’t?”

A pause, their legs halting before an empty parking lot. They faced one another. His friend’s mouth clamped shut, the gatekeeper to a thousand sweeping thoughts. Red eyes closed, his long eyelashes fanning his high cheekbones. Aquarius tipped his chin to the right, his hair hiding the tips of pursed lips.

Milo knew that look, the same as when they were children. The judgment phase. Whenever Camus was hiding something from him, it was always something earth-shattering. He would go through these exact motions to decide whether to be straight with the truth or not. Anything besides his chosen path would be worthless.

Scorpio observed the cues, the end results familiar to him. What verdict would he receive?

The redhead breathed in and opened his eyes. He pat the blond’s shoulder twice.

“Nothing at all, Milo. Justice will prevail in Sanctuary, soon. I wish good tidings for you and Aiolia.”

Aquarius crossed painted lines, his boots clacking on the concrete. Scorpio bowed his head.

Half truth.

* * * * *

_Rustle, rustle._

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”  
“...Aiolia.”  
“It’s horrible! Brother is gone, and everyone thinks he’s deserted. They’ve been calling me—”

_Whoosh, rustle, rustle. Shh—_

“The traitor’s brother.”  
“...Milo…?”

_Thump, thump. Shh, shh._

“Get away from me.”  
“...Mi...lo?”  
“I said get away!”

_Bam!_

“Wah! What’re you—”  
“I don’t stay with traitors.”

_Tap, tap, tap._

“Wait, Milo! Come back!”

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

“Milo!”

* * * * *

_The opposite of what I’ve been doing…_

Camus left for Siberia after their early morning spar, his advice churning within Scorpio. The best he could surmise was to do nothing. To stay away from Aiolia. He crossed his arms and paced his temple grounds. This marked the third time he circled up his own stairs. The sun had barely risen.

Quite the trial his friend gave him. Why follow through with it? Foolish to give into another person’s taunting. A real man stuck to his own convictions and did as he pleased.

No! He would _not_ refuse a challenge. Especially from Camus. That magician would never let him hear the end of it if he gave up.

Very well. A day, and no longer. That should settle the dispute.

A monologue that became his looped theme throughout the dreadful morning. He fumed at his desk, eyes trailing over dusty paperwork. So foul was his mood that he dismissed all guards and attendants for the entire day. He was not to be disturbed, he informed them. Silent halls allowed him to breathe at last.

By midday, he sat and leaned against a pillar overlooking the valley below. Sunlight made for a pleasant companion. His eyes locked onto the hills where sunflowers bloomed earlier that year. Harvest was plentiful, he had heard. The people celebrated in the center square. A cheerful flower girl gave him and Aiolia bouquets during their patrol. Leo smiled. Milo could still hear his voice.

“These look better with you.”

Aiolia handed his bouquet to Milo.

Scorpio had one flower pressed but lost it somewhere. He replanted the seeds. 

He sighed, his fist on his armored chest. With this pocket of downtime, Milo reflected. He was the one who always went to Aiolia during their private time. He was the one who was doing the inviting for outings. Whenever the lion smiled at him, it was the same one he gave to everyone else. The gap between them rarely closed.

The blond tensed when that little-touched-upon fear crept into his mind.

Was he the only one who would feel this way? If he was, nothing would change.

_Then this love will be my own._

His last thought as his eyes drifted shut.

* * * * *

...

“Mi—”

* * * * *

“—o!”

Ah, just a nosy attendant coming in to clean the torches, or whatever they did during the day. Didn’t he dismiss them? None of his business.

Those metal footsteps were so loud. A Saint bringing a summons? They were coming toward him so fast...

Rough fingers on his bare shoulder. The scent of sunshine and golden fields. Rippling of fabric on metal knees. 

“Are you all right, Milo?”

He shot his eyes open. The lion. Right in front of him.

“...Aiolia!”  
“Oh, you’re awake.”

Leo smiled.

“That’s good. Can you stand?”  
“...What… Why?”  
“I was on patrol when one of your maids said you weren’t feeling well. You won’t recover if you keep sleeping there.”

Milo blinked. Wasn’t it noon? No, the air was cooler. The shine from Leo’s helmet was red. That much time had passed...

So mysterious. They had watched many sunsets together, but this was the first time he saw the blazing sun reflect back at him in those blue eyes. Looking straight at him. The blood rushed to his ears.

“Hang on to me.”  
“Hah?”

In a flash, Aiolia heaved Milo’s arm over his shoulder and held him upright. Through his Cloth, he felt warmth along his ribcage.

“You look like you might be running a fever.”  
“Wait, I’m not—”  
“We need to get you some proper rest. Your bed, where is it?”

Milo trembled. _This lion...._

With a clenched jaw and a shaking fist, Milo stood on his own feet and tugged out of Aiolia’s grasp. He fought to keep his breath steady.

“No need. I can take care of myself.”  
“Milo…”

Scorpio huffed.

“Any other business?”

Leo grabbed his hand. They stared at one another.

“Do I need business to see the person I like?”

Aiolia huffed.

“I never forgot our promise.”

The words jolted Milo, but hope was too hard for him to accept. Too frightening. He pulled his hand away, hiding his shaking fingers by crossing his arms.

“You remember?”  
“Of course. You’re my friend.”  
“Oh… yeah.”

He tried not to sound too disappointed. Frankly, his heart wasn’t into trying to debate if friendship was better than nothing. At the moment, he was fighting to keep his composure. Everyone had the right to choose their devotion. Milo had chosen. Aiolia did nothing wrong, and he meant no offense. If that was how he truly felt, it was a reality he would need to accept someday. That was all.

That line would not be crossed.

Before Milo could break the silence, Aiolia cleared his throat. He rubbed his knuckles together and took in a shaky breath. Scorpio cocked an eyebrow. Since when did the lion hesitate?

“There is something else I would like to say. I talked with Camus before he left today. He told me that I should be specific. Otherwise, you won’t understand.”  
“ _Camus_?”  
“He talked with me earlier this year too. I’m glad he’s concerned for you.”

Scorpio clicked his tongue. _That magician…_ The long-haired blond narrowed his eyes.

“Specific how?”

Leo swallowed. He bowed his head. The parts of words dribbled from his lips, but nothing coherent came out. Milo gaped. Did he spot a blush?

“Ugh, damn it all! This is quicker!”

His arm was squeezed. Large eyes bore into his. 

“Accept this, Milo!”

It happened mid gasp at light speed. Aiolia closed his eyes, Milo could not react in time. Just a kiss on his forehead, warm and gentle, and sturdy fingers in his hair was enough to set his face on fire. Backing away, his cheeks red, Aiolia pushed his thumb on Milo’s lips.

“…Imagine that here.”

Scorpio caught his voice, which was sharper than he thought it would be.

“When!?”  
“I always did. I felt… I didn’t know what you wanted.”  
“What _I_ wanted!?”  
“You’re proud and righteous. The accusations against me and my brother haven’t been dropped. And Saints must devote everything to serve our goddess. Our hearts aren’t ours to give. I can understand why it wouldn’t work. I wanted to keep my feelings a secret.“

Milo felt his throat tighten.

“Aiolia…”  
“As long as I am under my brother’s shadow, I thought I could focus on honoring our promise. I want to keep our friendship intact. But…”

With lowered eyes, Aiolia smiled.

“You’ve been acting differently this year. It’s been wonderful being with you. Like a dream. So, when you weren’t by my side this morning and I heard… I was worried. And scared.”

Aiolia’s tanned hand froze between them. He placed it on Milo’s shoulder, minding the Cloth’s spike.

“I can’t be just a friend anymore. Forgive me.”

Like a guitar chord being played right for the first time, everything Leo said rang clear into Scorpio. Hazy morning punches, sunny walks in the village, midnight chats by the stars—they were being enjoyed with the same love the entire time. He gasped as the warmth spread across his chest. His feelings weren’t unrequited.

But then another realization hit. His feelings _were_ ignored. On purpose. Months of deflection over his stupid childhood tantrum? One that he regretted as soon as he said it? However well-meaning it may have been, he was vexed at the opportunities they could have shared sooner. And Camus knew this entire time! Milo had to let go of this frustration. Before his temper got the best of him and ruined any relationship.

Later introspection would tell him he could have been mindful and responsible. That he should have controlled himself better. Right at that time, it was the impulses that took hold.

Scorpio shook his fist.

“I won’t forgive you.”

The lion nodded slowly, his smile fading. His hand slipped away.

“I see. Thank you for your honesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He was about to walk away until Milo yanked him by the collar of his Cloth, his mantle whipping hard around him. Their breaths mingled in the cooling air. Scorpio scowled.

“I won’t forgive you until you give me a _real_ kiss ten times. You think that tepid touch is enough to make me concede?”  
“Milo, are you—”  
“Or are you the sort of man who runs away from a challenge?”

The sun dipped under the horizon. Both of their faces were red, and his heart was racing. He was bluffing somewhat; he’d been swooning for months already. Even so, Milo wanted more. Scorpio pulled his hand away and pounded his chest.

“Well, Golden Lion?”

There was a gold glint in Aiolia’s eyes. Both hands slid off his helmet, his elbow cradling it next to his ribs. 

“I would’ve wanted this under different circumstances. But I can’t let that last remark stand.”  
“Hmph, so says the man who’s never kissed before.“  
“Remember those words, Milo.”  
“No light speed either, Aiolia.”

Golden armor sparkled between them. With his free hand, Aiolia caressed Milo’s cheek. He looked down, his tanned fingers combing through the curled violet tips of long blond hair. Gazing at his gentle awe, Milo’s throat tickled. His heart warmed.

“How does your hair do this? It’s so unique.”  
“Who knows, it’s hair. Been born with it.”  
“It’s as beautiful as the night sky. Softer than I imagined.”  
“...First time I’ve heard that from a man.”  
“I would like to be many firsts for you, if possible.”  
“...I’d like that too.”

So quiet and light that only the lion could hear. Milo bit on his bottom lip. The words had slipped out. He averted his eyes as Aiolia gasped, their meaning clicking in his head.

A beat of burning ears. 

_Clank!_

By the time the helmet hit the floor, Leo had his hands rubbing Scorpio’s head and neck. A gentle press of the lips, then another. Milo moaned, drawing Leo closer by tugging on his mantle. He embraced the lion’s back. Aiolia kissed with more pressure. Metal plating thumped against the stone pillar.

In between kisses, they gasped for air and whispered each other’s names. They accidentally bashed their teeth once. Aiolia stopped to apologize; Milo tugged on his collar for an open mouthed kiss. He gently bit and sucked on the lion’s bottom lip, glad to hear the moan in return. He moaned as Aiolia gently tugged the hair behind his ears. It was a full body dance.

When Aiolia’s finger rubbed his earlobe, he felt a gentle pressure over his eyelid. Warm breath brushed his eyelashes.

“That was over ten.”  
“...You counted?”  
“Mmm. So, Milo.”  
“...Huh?”  
“Will you forgive me?”

Oh, right. Milo lazily ran his fingers through Aiolia’s blond locks.

“...Another ten, and we’ll see.”

Blue eyes locked and shined in the twilight sky. They smiled, Milo’s smirk losing its edge. Aiolia humphed as he kissed Milo’s forehead.

“If you insist, scorpion.”  
“Get over here, lion.”

They chuckled and rubbed their noses together. A long and sweet kiss on the lips, their fingers laced together and heartbeats as one. Later, Milo would say it was Kiss 11. Aiolia would say it was Kiss 23.

But they both agreed it was the best kiss of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Goodness, did I change my mind a lot for this pairing. Comic Milo has more with Aiolia than his animated counterparts, so there's them colors. Prefer Kuori's interpretation though. Not sure if I should've added the _Saintia Sho_ tag just for that.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thank you to anyone who leaves comments and/or kudos! Wishing everyone safety and happiness.


End file.
